


The Swan Prince

by ImperialMint



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swan Princess (1994) Fusion, Animal Transformation, Birds, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint/pseuds/ImperialMint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cursed at a young age, Ace is betrothed to the magic kingdom Moby's prince, Marco, in hopes that, one day, he will break the spell - by any means necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Swan Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the [opreversebang](opreversebang.tumblr.com)! Unfortunately my artist had to pull out, but I made a little edit to go along with this which can be found [here!](http://imperialmint.tumblr.com/post/128141807816/a-little-graphic-to-go-with-my-story-the-swan)
> 
> a BIG thank you to [lunarshores](lunarshores.tumblr.com) because without her, like most of my fics, this wouldn't even exist.

Moonlight reflected in the surface of the lake, and Marco sighed. He sat on the steps that led down to the lake, though he shouldn’t have been here. This ground wasn’t part of his father’s castle, but supposedly belonged to a terrible man, a practitioner of the darkest arts. Marco didn’t believe that, though, and the kitchens seemed to think the land had belonged to a pair of cursed lovers, and oh, wasn’t that romantic they cooed in his ear.

Marco didn’t like romance. What self-respecting 10 year old boy did? He liked adventure, horses, more adventure, fighting with his knights and even more adventure. He didn’t have time to pursue what his father called ‘great alliances and prospects’ or whatever, he just wanted to explore this abandoned land and have fun.

His 10th birthday marked the beginning of the betrothal process, according to their land’s customs. Marco had little fondness for the customs (they demanded so many things of him, all of them stuffy and taking him away from adventure) and little fondness for meeting a young prince he was to marry one day. Great alliances aside, Marco didn’t want to marry anyone.

He sighed, imagining the heralding trumpets that would be flooding the castle tomorrow. He supposed he could always feed the prince to the huge fish that swam in this lake. Marco had always been a little terrified of the way their scales glinted in the moonlight, and he watched as one began a lazy circle, scales grey and cold. Perhaps there had been an evil sorcerer and these had been his pets. They looked terrible enough.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice said, and Marco turned to look at Thatch as he approached the steps leading to the lake. “Oyaji’s going mad looking for you, you know. I told him I’d seen you in the stables though, so your hiding place is safe for now.”

Why couldn’t Marco marry Thatch? Thatch was practical, he understood Marco, and he enabled his adventures. Thatch would make a great husband. But no – just because this Ace belonged to a kingdom that theirs had been almost at war with for centuries and this alliance would finally bring peace and stability. Marco scowled to himself, stood, and headed back to the castle with Thatch.

His nursemaid took one look at him and rolled her eyes, whipping fresh bedclothes out and instructing him to change. Marco had once ignored Shakky’s orders before and paid for it, and he’d never misbehaved for her again. He still wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t run a crime ring in the castle’s town (or crime-stopping, Marco still wasn’t clear on the facts), but he did know it was a fact that she’d demanded the job off of Whitebeard after Marco had snuck into her bar again and again. Since then he’d been the perfect little prince, and Shakky had had a delivery boy when she needed one. It was an arrangement they kept quiet, though it wouldn’t really surprise Marco if his father knew everything already.

“How old were you when you got betrothed?” Marco asked suddenly, hating how small his voice sounded.

Shakky stopped picking up his discarded clothing and looked at him softly.

“I never got betrothed,” she said fondly, stepping over to the bed Marco had slipped into. “I waited until I was what you would call an old lady and married the man of my dreams. We were all wrinkled and old and horrid,” Shakky said gleefully, and Marco laughed, feeling something ease in his chest.

“So if this doesn’t work…” he trailed off. Shakky brushed his hair from his forehead and smiled down at him.

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll all move on and get on with our lives. Maybe a permanent position will open up at my shop, and we’ll need you to join us instead of ruling.” Marco smiled at her words. Shakky always knew the best ways to cheer him up.  She left, saying she’d be by early tomorrow, and Marco was left to ponder what the prince would be like.

Nothing he imagined was good.

**.**

The carriage door slammed shut ,and Ace tried to peer out of the curtain, fingers pressed against the glass as the horses began to move. He saw Marco break free of the royal party, saw him chase after the carriage with his arm waving madly, and Ace didn’t even try to hide his smile. He opened the carriage door, ignoring his warden’s cries of alarm, and began waving back, clinging madly to the carriage as it hurtled along, laughter echoing around the two of them.

Ace had been terrified of meeting Prince Marco. He’d expected his intended to be snobbish, brutish or obnoxious – even a combination of any of them. Instead, Marco had seemed about as fearful as Ace and had spent most of the first day catering to every whim Ace had (he’d tested that and yes, Marco had found some kittens for them to play with, and yes, Marco had helped make lunch with him) and generally being the nicest person Ace had ever met. Well, apart from his mother.

He liked Marco. He thought he and Marco could be best friends if they lived in the same kingdom. Ace thought that this betrothal wouldn’t be so bad after all, not if it was to Marco.

Of course, reality hit when he stepped into the great hall back at his home. His mother walked beside him and his father approached, worry etched on his brow.

“Was he kind?” was Roger’s first question, and Ace launched into a tale of all the wonderful things Marco and he had done, his parents laughing along. The tales had to end and the laughter had to fall to silence, and that was when reality hit.

“Is it enough to break the curse?” Rouge said. Ace looked down at his feet, remembering the reluctance his parents had agreed to the peace treaty with. The sorcerer had come from Whitebeard’s kingdom, after all, and Ace’s curse… well.

“I don’t know,” Roger replied, running a hand over his mouth and shaking his head. “But it’s the best chance we have. We can’t afford war, not with the kingdoms to the west in such turmoil.”

Ace bit his lip. He knew the real reason he was being bargained to a once-enemy. Whitebeard had the most powerful magicians in all of the kingdoms and they all hoped that a union between them would help Ace break the curse – one way or another.

It had been his first birthday that the curse had been bestowed upon him. A sorcerer from Whitebeard’s kingdom, one who had met Roger before and sworn to defeat him one way or another, had visited the castle. In an almost painful ode to the old fairy tales, the sorcerer had lain a curse upon Ace, one that could only be broken by a declaration of true (romantic, they’d tried all the kinds of love they could think of, even going so far as to enchant Ace’s favourite food as a child so it could speak) love and a kiss. By marrying Marco, Ace might find his true love, perhaps, but he’d also have control of the world’s most powerful magicians, one of whom had to be able to break the curse.

It wasn’t a terrible curse, not really. Until his 20th birthday and every full moon, Ace would turn into a mute swan. It could be so much worse, he’d always thought, until he’d discovered the rest of the curse. After his 20th birthday, Ace would turn into his swan form every night, the transformation lasting longer and longer, until he never returned to his human form.

Ace didn’t mind being a swan. He was used to it by now, and he enjoyed flying and swimming and all other bird things. What he didn’t like, though, was being chained by the leg whenever he chained, his parents afraid something would happen to him if he somehow managed to get free. They’d declared swans sacred birds too, but they still feared for him. Ace sort of understood, but he also had a feeling Marco wouldn’t chain him.

“When will I see Marco again?” Ace asked, and his parents turned around, smiling brightly.

“Soon,” his mother promised, hugging Ace close and distracting his attention with promises of dinner.

And so, it is almost 10 years later that our tale really begins – the story of a swan prince and how his curse was broken.

**.**

The look Thatch shot him could have frozen fire, and Marco struggled to remain straight-faced in his seat. He could sense heavy disapproval from Whitebeard’s direction and straightened, though he knew his father found the situation as hilarious as the rest of them. Whitebeard just had a better poker face, was all.

“And that,” the man who was standing drawled, his fake moustache dangling from his upper lip the cause of everyone else’s hidden amusement, “means that the paths need to be cleared for the ceremony, the…” Marco focused on Thatch’s stony face rather than the man’s words, fighting back laughter as the man gestured with his hands, spraying Thatch with sweat and spit as he continued talking.

It wasn’t really a surprise that everyone sighed in relief when the man was done. He was one of the lords who enjoyed tooting his own horn, so to speak. If it wasn’t for the fact he was a really good lord, he’d have been out long ago.

“Now the final issue of the meeting, which we were so graciously made aware of just now.” Whitebeard smiled, and Marco could see the amusement as the lord looked around wildly, afraid he’d committed a faux-pas and let the celebratory cat out of the bag.

“My son’s betrothed will be arriving soon, and there is to be a wedding.” Cheers rang out across the table, and Marco smiled, looking down at the table. His stomach clenched at the thought of his soon-to-be wedding, though it was far from a terrible clenching.

While Marco didn’t think he loved Ace, they were certainly friends. They’d always been friends, ever since the first handful of slightly nervous meetings. Things had only gotten better as they’d aged, especially as they fully understood what betrothed meant and what was to be expected of them when they turned twenty. They’d even experimented a little (and on one notable occasion been caught by the entire kitchen staff and had suffered through phallic shaped dinners for the duration of Ace’s stay, much to the amusement of everyone else), but Marco always felt Ace was holding something back. He hoped that a proper marriage would solve the feeling, as Marco couldn’t think of anything that Ace might be hiding from him.

“Prince Ace will be arriving tomorrow afternoon. Marco will see to entertaining the prince,” at this, a few titters (particularly from Thatch, Marco noted with narrow eyes) sounded around the table, and he smiled innocently, kicking Thatch under the table. “The ceremony will take place the following week, once the last of our guests have arrived.”

The people around the council table nodded, Marco joining in. They’d all heard these plans a hundred times before, but being around this table was a new environment, so they had to be repeated, obviously.

“I believe that concludes this session,” Whitebeard said, nodding in dismissal as everyone stood, scuttling away to whatever duties they needed to attend to. Marco noticed Thatch make a quick exit and he narrowed his eyes, vowing to follow him as soon as he could.

“Our kingdoms were traditionally united, did you know,” Whitebeard commented suddenly, and Marco looked up in interest. “In fact, the most harmonious alliances have been said to come from a uniting of Oto and Moby,” he continued, and Marco nodded. “There are some who have always sought to put an end to that.” Whitebeard’s voice was grave now, and Marco knew this was something only he was meant to hear.

“What do you mean, Oyaji?” he asked softly, moving away from the table to come and stand at his father’s side. There were lines on his face Marco hadn’t noticed before, and he felt a pang of sympathy escape him. Times had been hard recently, due to an uprising of sorcerers who had turned away from the kingdom. Marco had a feeling that they had something to do with what Whitebeard was discussing now, and if the kingdom fell into the sorcerer’s hands, then they were all done for.

“The Betrayers have been quiet lately,” Whitebeard said, and Marco hummed in agreement. They had been very quiet, and everyone was worried they were planning an attack when Prince Ace and his party arrived. It would be a disaster, but it would give the Betrayers what they wanted.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Marco promised, taking Whitebeard’s nod as a dismissal and leaving, wondering where Thatch would be.

“I was going to run off,” Thatch said by his side, evidently having waited outside of the door. “Though I looked at Oyaji before I left, and he looked pretty serious.”

Marco nodded, clasping Thatch on the shoulder in thanks.

“He thinks the Betrayers may make a move when Ace gets here,” Marco confessed, after looking around them to check there was no one to overhear. Thatch nodded solemnly.

It wasn’t a surprise, not really. The Betrayers had stopped Ace and his family from entering the country before – in fact it had been a few years since Marco had seen Ace because of them. Letters had been exchanged still though, so Ace and Marco hadn’t fallen out of contact, but if the Betrayers were to try anything now…

“Oyaji sent a letter to them, you know,” Marco said, and Thatch looked at him as they began walking down to the stables, a familiar route for the two of them. “He informed them that the entire kingdom would wage war on them if they interfered with the marriage.”

It was a hefty threat, one Marco had been in disagreement with. He didn’t doubt that they could face off the Betrayers, but there were always casualties in war. It was why they hadn’t destroyed the group before now, afraid that they would harm the innocent. They hadn’t done much to the kingdom since their defection, aside from the attacks on the royal family and preventing Ace from visiting. Marco wouldn’t go so far as to say they were peaceful (they had burnt villages down and murdered when they were initially fleeing), but a king had to make hard choices. The Betrayers had been quiet and peaceful, waging war against them would have brought chaos, and Marco had been a child.

A cold feeling passed through Marco at that point. It was on their 20th birthday that a prince could become a crown prince. Marco’s birthday had passed a few months earlier, which meant that should anything to Whitebeard, the kingdom would be in capable hands without someone else becoming regent.

The stables were bustling with activity, as usual, and Marco asked for a horse to be saddled. The stable hand winked at him and ran off, understanding that Marco was about to leave the castle and head to the local town. It was something he often did, and while he never hid it (Whitebeard certainly knew what he was up to), everyone else seemed to think it was a big secret.

“Pass my love onto Shakky!” Thatch said dramatically. Marco looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He’d been expecting Thatch to come to, as he usually did, and Thatch simply shot him a grin. “I’ve been given permission to begin archiving the oldest scrolls,” Thatch explained, and Marco hummed. Thatch had been trying to seek permission to do just that for months now.

“Good luck then,” Marco said as his horse was brought into view, a friendly gelding who had a fondness for beer. It was also one of Shakky’s bar’s favourite patrons, always greeted merrily and given more than an appropriate share of ale. Still, they all made sure no harm came to the horse, and Marco mounted swiftly, the gelding seeming to know where he was headed, turning around in anticipation. “I’ll see you tonight!” Marco called as he trotted off, hooves clattering against the cobblestones.

The ride into town was a peaceful one, and many people waved to Marco as he passed. No one stopped him, though, and he made it to Shakky’s bar in good time.

“Thatch sends his love,” Marco called as he stepped into the bar, his horse sticking its head through the window from where it was stabled outside. Someone laughed, ordered the horse’s preferred drink, and Shakky grinned at him from behind the bar.

“Does he now,” Shakky murmured, reaching beneath the counter and taking out a package. It looked like a book, something that was confirmed when she slid it towards him. “He’s been after this for weeks now, and since he’s finally learnt some manners.” She winked, and Marco looked down at the book. It looked as if it was an old volume on curses, a field of interest Thatch had. Personally  Marco found it unremarkable uninteresting.

“Don’t worry,” Shakky said, sliding Marco a drink. “He’s paid for it.”

He slid the book away into one of the saddle bags he’d brought in with him and sat down at the bar counter. The atmosphere was calm, aside from the small group who were watching the horse chug beer as well as any regular, and Marco closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself relax.

He’d been coming to Shakky’s for years now, so much that it was practically a second home. When Shakky had left the palace, Marco had simply stopped sneaking down to the bar and instead rode down in broad daylight. He’d been running errands and doing jobs for her for years anyway, there was no sense in being secretive about it. There was, however, one little think he did keep secreted away from general knowledge, and that was the fact that he came to Shakky’s to learn how to use and master his magic.

Magic was something that had been drained dry of the royal family. It was a power that had helped conquer the kingdom from the demons that had once roamed the land, true, but no one of royal blood had had even an inkling of magic for hundreds of years.

In contrast, there were days where Marco felt as though he would burst with the amount of magic stored inside of him. Shakky’s helped him learn from those who understood, as well as keep his powers secret from his family. Thatch knew, but Whitebeard did not, and Marco couldn’t bear to tell his father, in fears that his mother had taken another man to bed and that Marco wasn’t of true royal blood.

“Ray-san isn’t here,” Shakky said gently, and Marco looked at her. She was more of a mother to him than anyone else had been, and he could see familiar lines (lines he was sure he’d put on her face) move as her smile shifted into a look that was more worry than not. “He’s with King Roger right now, but he’ll be back tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Marco replied. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to see Rayleigh – a former chief magician and now liaison between their kingdom and Ace’s – today, but he thought it worth the chance. He’d planned to relax here before the council meeting, but now he wanted another opinion on the Betrayers.

“Do you think something will happen tomorrow?” he asked softly, and Shakky frowned, looking away.

“There is something,” she said quietly, looking back at Marco and shaking her head. “You and your prince will be okay,” Shakky continued, getting Marco another drink and fetching something for him to read, a book on protective spells. He nodded gratefully and, though he’d already memorised the most useful spells in the book, set to reading the book again.

The feeling in his gut, the dread that something was coming, didn’t lessen, but Marco could at least try to prepare himself for whatever it was.

**.**

The day was warm, Ace noticed, and he let his eyes close for a moment. His legs ached a little from all the riding, and he was looking forward both to seeing Marco and getting off his horse.

“Not long now,” Rouge said happily, slowing her horse down from the trot she’d used to ride up next to Ace. Unlike him, she seemed unaffected by the lengthy trip, still as excited as she had been when they’d left Oro’s capital. “It’ll be nice to see Marco again, it’s been a long time.”

It had been a long time, Ace thought, and he felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach at the thought of seeing his friend – his betrothed – again after such a long time. They’d spoken through letters, but it hadn’t been the same. Ace missed Marco, or at least the Marco he’d known before. He wasn’t sure how much Marco might have changed, after all.

“I can see the castle, look!” Rouge said suddenly, and Ace followed her arm to where they could see the light grey castle, nestled in the centre of a sprawling town. Moby was as much home to Ace as Oro was, and his heart lifted when he saw the castle.

With a grin, Ace spurred his horse on, leaving the accompanying party behind. He heard his mother’s laughter above the hoofbeats as she joined him, the pair of them galloping towards the castle where Marco was. It was almost too late that Ace noticed something was hiding in the trees flanking the path, and he drew his horse up quickly, eyes wide.

“Mother!” he shouted, just as the first shadow slipped from the trees. A dark, cloaked figure materialised, a garbled hiss of words escaping the figure’s throat and wrenching Rouge from the horse. The horse screamed, galloping back the way it had come, and Ace kept his reins clenched in his hands, needing a way to get himself and Rouge away from these people quickly.

“What do you want?” Ace shouted, steadying his horse as the figure pulled his mother backwards against itself, arm wrapping around her neck.

“Nothing,” the figure said, shadows falling away from it to reveal a thin, sickly looking man. He grinned, wide, and Ace felt the world tumble around him as he was pulled from his horse. It wasn’t magic that had done it, though, and he struggled against the thick arms that held him, a hauntingly familiar laugh ringing in his ears.

“Oh, little prince,” it said, and Ace felt sick as he placed the voice, panic welling in his chest. There was no reason why he should remember the voice – he’d been but a small baby when the curse had been lain upon him – but remember he did. This was the magician who had cursed him.

“It’s been a while, my queen,” the man said, throwing Ace to the side. He was caught by another of the magician’s men and he felt energy-draining cuffs wind around his wrists. “Did you think about my offer?” the man continued, and Ace felt a sickening horror flow through him.

“Leave her alone,” he snapped, using the last of his strength to push against the figure restraining him, managing to break free just long enough to push into the magician, pushing him to the side slightly. It earnt him a slap in return, but it had been worth it. This creature would never lay hands on his mother, not while Ace lived.

“You,” the magician hissed, whirling on Ace. Darkness gathered around his hands and the man sent a bolt of it towards Ace. Curiously, it didn’t hit him, instead it seemed to be absorbed into Ace, through a fiery light that flared across his body.

“They’ve tried to protect you,” the magician said, almost sounding surprised. “And they did a good job. Too bad they can’t protect you from curses already laid upon you!” he broke into a horrific laugh, the sound echoing around them hauntingly.

Ace’s mind whirled as he tried to figure out what he could do to get away from these magic users. He knew all about the Betrayers, and if anyone had to belong to that group, then it had to be this man before him. They hadn’t galloped off too far ahead, so Roger and the rest should be here soon, Ace thought, and then a fresh worry seeped through him when he thought about what might have happened to his father and their people.

“What do you want,” Ace said again, thickly and with a mostly clenched jaw. The magician fell silent and narrowed his eyes, dark little beads that had no goodness in them.

“I-“ the magician began, but he swore violently, shouting orders to his men as arrows began flying through the clearing – though not in the direction Ace had come.

It wasn’t the reunion Ace had been expecting, but his heart pounded in his chest as he saw Marco leading his men, all with bows ready to fire. They let loose another barrage, and Ace had a feeling magic was being used here too to correct their aim and keep them away from him, and one  buried itself in the man who was holding Rouge, a blue crackle striking him dead in moments.

“Ace!” Rouge called out, heading for him, and Ace almost moved to meet her when he saw the magician’s face. His eyes widened, horror spreading through him as he realised what was going to happen.

There was a moment of silence as the magician’s hand took hold of his arm and then… nothing.

Ace was left in the darkness for a long time, so long that he felt his body shift, arms turning to wings and skin to soft feathers. He remained in the darkness, not sure which was was up or down, not sure if his mother, Marco and the rest of his family were okay. He remained, waiting.

**.**

Marco almost couldn’t believe his eyes. One moment he’d been sending a magic infused arrow to kill the Betrayer who had captured the Queen, and the next he was staring at a charred mark on the ground, the only proof that Ace had once been here.

“No,” he heard Rouge call, voice low and pained. “No, no, no,” she repeated, shaking her head.

Slipping from his horse, Marco strode over to her, catching her as she fell against him, tears streaming down her face. Rouge looked at him and something in her seemed to calm, for she brushed her fingers against Marco’s cheek and composed herself a little.

“He isn’t dead,” she said, confirming the feeling Marco had too. He nodded, accepting her arms as she pulled him close. “He wouldn’t die so easily, especially not as that man…” Rouge trailed off, pulled back with her eyes closed, and Marco handed her a cloth to wipe her tears. It was a cloth she had made for him, actually, one Ace had given him when they’d visited Oro. She softened when she saw it, dabbing her face clean, and took a deep breath.

“My husband and King Whitebeard need to know what’s happened,” she said, grieving mother stored away in place of a ruthless queen. “Would you send a messenger ahead please? There are some things we need to tell you in private.”

The bustle of a journeying party sounded as Roger and his men finally caught up. There was a grave look on Roger’s face, as if he knew something had happened, and Marco nodded, signalling his fastest rider at once and passing on Rouge’s message.

“My son,” Roger said, voice laced with pain. Marco ducked his head. If only he’d been faster, if only he’d been stronger, if only-

“This is not your fault, Marco,” Roger said, voice steady despite the sadness that lingered around them. “There is nothing that could have stopped that man, this much I know for sure.” His look was so full of regret that Marco didn’t know how to reply, though it didn’t matter much in the end. They needed to return to the castle and start searching for Ace.

Whitebeard met them gravely when they entered the courtyard. Their horses were passed on, accompanying parties told to be on standby, and an order was sent to the stables to saddle up all available horses. There was going to be a search party, a big one.

“I’m sorry we could not meet again on a happier note,” Whitebeard said, clasping Roger’s hand and then hugging Rouge. He nodded to Marco, and Marco led them through the castle to Whitebeard’s private chambers, one of the most secure and secretive places in the entire castle.

“Sit,” Whitebeard said to their guests, dismissing the servants and pouring water for them all himself. Marco sat opposite Roger and Rouge, with Whitebeard at the head of the table, and they waited quietly until Rouge began to speak.

“As you know, magic no longer exists in our kingdom,” she began, and Marco leaned forward in interest. There was something ancient and secretive here that was about to be discussed, and he wasn’t going to let himself miss a single word.

“There is a reason for that. In our kingdom, there was a curse laid down many centuries ago, by the demons who were defeated by our ancestors. The curse made it so any magic users would grow and have their magic turning against them, eventually working them into demons themselves.” Rouge looked down and Marco nodded, wanting to know more. “The magicians of that time tried to dispel the curse, but demon curses are everlasting.”

She looked so solemn, and Marco wanted to reach out to her in comfort.

“They might not have been able to dispel the curse, but the magicians worked in a counter spell, one that would slowly drain the people of their magic. Children can be born extremely powerful, but by their 20th birthday, they will have no inkling of power left. The magic returns to the land through the spell, and while our land experiences more attacks from magical forces due to it, our people are safe.” Rouge took a deep breath and looked up, laying her hands on the table.

“I am the current counter spell caster. Every year I must strengthen the counter spell, and there has only been one year when I was late.” Rouge looked at Roger and he shifted, taking over the speaking.

“When Rouge was pregnant with Ace, we experienced the worst attack we’d experienced in decades. It was almost as if someone had discovered the purpose of the counter curse – only the king and the caster are privy to the information. Everyone else believes it’s a simple blessing on the land.” Roger frowned. “It’s clear now that someone discovered the purpose, and wanted to stop Rouge from laying the spell. It’s quite possible it is the same man today.”

Marco drew back, gritting his jaw, regret flowing through him bright and bitter.

“The sorcerer delayed Rouge as much as he could. He sent waves of demons to distract the armies and block off Rouge’s route to the shrine where she could renew the counter spell. Somehow we managed to break a path through for her, though it was almost too late by then.” Roger lost himself in memories for a moment, judging from the odd look on his face, and Rouge tilted her chin up slightly, taking back over.

“I managed to perform the counter spell before it broke completely. The sorcerer behind the attack, Blackbeard he called himself, found me there a while later.” Rouge smiled stiffly, and Marco’s eyes narrowed, the name familiar.

“Teach,” Whitebeard growled suddenly, his hands clenching into fists. “He’s the one behind all of this?”

Even Marco remembered Teach. He’d been a part of the king’s magicians for years, even been friendly to Marco, but had been banished along with the other Betrayers. Marco and Whitebeard had found it hard to believe, but there was no doubt that Blackbeard could be none other than Teach. It had been a name he’d seldom used (perhaps they knew why now), but it was his magic name, the name that was revealed to oneself when they performed the magician’s oaths. Marco’s own name still baffled him a little, but he’d kept it secret like a magician should.

Teach being the one behind this had a deeper connotation too. If he’d been around to harm Oro when Rouge was pregnant, he’d been planning his betrayal for a lot longer than any of them had realised.

“I wasn’t able to hold back my labour,” Rouge said, nodding to Whitebeard’s question as she continued. “Blackbeard found me with a newborn Ace. The midwife had come with me for that exact reason, but she could do little more than watch as Blackbeard cursed Ace.” Rouge took a shaky breath. Marco felt his stomach turn at the word curse, his worry for Ace increasing tenfold.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about the curse before, but we had hoped…” Rouge broke off. “He changes, every night now. Blackbeard cursed him so that only true love would break the spell, or he’d be stuck in his other form permanently.” Rouge shook her head slowly, as if she didn’t want to believe the words she was speaking.

“We’d hope that if he couldn’t find love with Marco to break the spell then perhaps one of your magicians could break the curse.” Roger’s voice was firm, unapologetic, and it didn’t bother Marco at all. He was sure if Whitebeard had been in the same position, he would have forged such an alliance.

“And he’s taken Ace now, when the curse strengthens?” Whitebeard asked. Rouge nodded, turning wide, sorrowful eyes to Marco.

“Ace is the next counterspell wielder. Only he has the magic to be able to continue laying down the spell, as I performed the rite when he was born, in case I died that night.” Rouge’s face was pained, as if she wanted to reach back in time and do something more to protect Ace from Blackbeard.

“If the curse takes hold of Ace fully then there will be no counterspell wielder after me. Once Ace’s curse becomes fully fledged, Blackbeard will come for me, he’ll take Oro and then he’ll take Moby.” She looked down, and Marco stood from his chair, moving over to Whitebeard’s desk to where a large map lay. He brought it over to the table and lay it down, pointing to a cluster of stones towards the north.

“This is where the Betrayers are,” Marco said. He’d been to the Rocks before, a collection of towering stones that were said to have birthed the first demons into the world, and been quite unimpressed. They were huge and interesting, yes, but not terrifying as Marco had expected.

“I suspect they’ll be holding Ace there. I’ll send scouting parties towards the north first, but we can’t rule out the possibility they have gone elsewhere.” Marco scanned the map and nodded to himself. “I will lead the party that heads towards the Rocks. If you could have your own men scour Oro just in case, and I’ll leave the rest of the scouting parties under Thatch’s command.” Marco looked towards Whitebeard, who simply nodded, and that was all Marco needed to spur into motion.

He was just leaving when he felt a hand catch his wrist, Rouge stopping him.

“Ace doesn’t know the true cause of the curse,” she said hurriedly. “We told him he was cursed on his first birthday, from a random sorcerer. We’ve managed to keep most of the unrest hidden from him – he has enough to deal with from his transformations and…” Rouge broke off, letting go of Marco’s arm.

“Just be careful. Please,” she added softly, and Marco nodded.

A little while later, Marco was dressed in armour and galloping away from the castle, horse spilling out in all directions as they went to search the land. Marco surveyed the land with a heavy gaze, preparing himself to use any means to get Ace back.

Even if he had to expose his magic.

 

**.**

Ace woke slowly, or at least he thought he did. It was hard to tell when he’d been in darkness for whoever knew how long. He felt disorientated, hungry, thirsty, tired, and a keen sense of loss.

He opened his eyes to light for the first time in days, and was shocked to see that he was on the shore of a lake. He moved to sit up, realised that he was in his bird form, and changed tactics, using wings and webbed feet to carry his swan’s body over to the lake.

The sun was high in the sky, and Ace wondered if he’d ever turn back to a human at all now. He had no idea how long he’d been here, but if he was in swan form when the sun was high in the sky, his chances didn’t look good.

“You’re awake,” a deep voice called, rattling laugh spreading across the lake. Ace spun in a circle, hissing as he laid eyes on the man who had taken him. He wanted to call out and demand the magician take him home, ask whether his mother was okay, whether Marco and everyone else was okay, but he was a swan and swans could not speak the human language.

“You’ll die soon,” the magician said pleasantly, smile growing on his features. “By the hands of the very man who could have saved you too.” The magician laughed and let the shadows overtake him, melting into the darkness and vanishing.

Ace wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to fight. He couldn’t do any of those, not with how weak and powerless he was right now. He couldn’t escape, not when he could see the crackle of magic above, laced in a dome above the lake, designed to trap Ace in. He couldn’t even fly, he discovered after a quick inspection of his wings, his pinon feather trimmed messily, trapping him on the lake.

He swam around the lake in slow circles, dipping under every now and then to feed. Ace could feel his mind drifting, away from what it meant to be human and towards the life of a bird. It wouldn’t be so bad, the curse whispered to him, and Ace felt himself losing his grip of time, lazily swimming circles and staring listlessly at the water.

And then it struck him what the magician had said. He’d said that Ace would be killed by the very person who was supposed to break the curse – and there was only one possible person who could fill that role now.

Marco! Ace wanted to call, but it escaped his throat in a honk, the sound echoing around the lake. He honked again, flapping his useless wings and throwing water all around, trying to demand that the magician return. It was a futile effort, as he’d expected, and when Ace eventually calmed, the bird in his mind seemed to have faded.

What exactly had the magician meant when he’d said that Marco would kill him? Marco definitely wasn’t in on the curse, that simply wasn’t possible. Or had Marco grown to have him and sided with the magician? Ace case the thought from his mind the moment he thought it. He knew Marco. He knew Marco was better than the magician and would never side with such a terrible human.

That left trickery, and Ace knew the magician was skilled at such an art. Marco, somehow, was going to be tricked into killing Ace, and Ace couldn’t let that happen. If such a thing did occur, Marco would never forgive himself for one, and the magician would get whatever he wanted. Plus, Ace thought as he drifted towards a bed of reeds, he really didn’t want to die.

What could he do, though? Ace was limited, what with being a cursed swan and all, but maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could control his transformation slightly, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to push it back so that when Marco came, all he’d see was Ace - an Ace who could talk.

There was little he could do for now though, and Ace began running through all the prayers and incantations his mother had taught him, all to stave off the transformation. They never properly worked, but Ace had never felt the same levels of magic in Oro that he could feel here. He knew the magic back home was tied to the land, blocked from the people for their safety, and he had never really been able to harness the dormant magic inside of him. Now, though, with the curse in a land bursting at the seams with spells and magic makers, Ace thought he might be able to have a little control.

The magician returned every now and then, usually to scatter food pellets along the shore and stare at Ace. He named himself, Blackbeard, with arrogance and pride, and Ace wanted to rip him apart. He couldn’t though, not just because his swan form wouldn’t get very far, but because he needed Blackbeard to think he was winning. If Ace gave him any reason to doubt that he was anything but a docile swan, he doubted he’d be able to save himself and Marco.

Ace changed once in the three (or so, it was hard to keep absolute track) days he’d been at the lake. He’d been mid-way through one of the incantations to chain his human form down when he’d slipped, mind wandering to thoughts of pondweed and whether there were any tasty fish swimming in the murky waters. He had changed in an instant, light rippling from his body as pain forced his transformation, his human form sinking quickly into the water.

Half-drowned and chest heaving, Ace managed to kick himself to shore, clothes sodden and smelling slightly fishy. He hauled himself onto land and lay there for a moment, helplessness overtaking him as he fought not to cry. This was it then, he’d thought. No matter what he tried, his attempts were useless, and Ace allowed himself a few moments of self-pity.

He didn’t give up though. Ace knew that if he didn’t do something, he really would die, and that was not an option. Ace hadn’t even seen Marco properly yet, only a snatched glance in battle. He hadn’t kissed Marco in years, hadn’t had sex with Marco for longer, and hadn’t spoken in person for so, so long. He hadn’t realised it quite as much as he did right now, but Ace missed Marco a lot.

It wasn’t the kind of missing that had grown, but it was now the kind that felt like an ache in Ace’s chest. He didn’t know what he’d do if he could never see Marco again (see him in human form at least), and panic began to fill his stomach, sending Ace pacing up and down the shore.

It was almost a relief when his transformation came, and Ace could swim, circling the lake in almost desperate strokes, his head full of incantations and prayers, storing away transformation energy and hoping that it would be enough.

He wouldn’t know until the time came, after all.

 

**.**

Marco rode alone into the Rocks, heading straight for the clear circle that lay in their centre. As he’d anticipated, Blackbeard was there waiting, ugly smile on his face, and he laughed as Marco halted his horse.

“The noble prince has finally arrived,” Blackbeard said. Marco felt his magic bubble inside of him, wanting to launch itself at Blackbeard, but an even greater instinct told Marco to hold it, hide it, keep it from Blackbeard’s knowledge. “But I wonder if he will be up to the task.”

While he knew he’d be rising to whatever bait Blackbeard had set out, Marco knew he’d do anything if it would save Ace. If he had to do what Blackbeard wanted, then, well. He’d try.

“What do I have to do?” he asked, ignoring the laugh that escaped Blackbeard. Marco took a step closer, and while another man might have drawn his sword, Marco waited. Blackbeard didn’t want him dead, not yet at least, and Marco had a feeling there was something he was needed for.

“You know the legend of the fire bird,” Blackbeard said, and Marco nodded slowly. It was a children’s myth – a bird made of fire that lived in the icy mountains and granted wishes. It was a story of regret and loss, for the bird couldn’t complete the hero’s wishes to raise a dead loved one, and Marco had always found it a little chilling.

“The fire bird lives in the mountains near the castle,” Blackbeard said, and Marco managed only just to hide his surprise. The mountains near the castle were relatively small, small enough that Marco had used them as an adventuring place when he was younger, surviving any wild animal encounters and extreme weather the peak had. It was a strange mountain, admittedly, but Marco had never seen even a hint of a mythical bird.

“You will go to it and retrieve the four eggs in its nest. It won’t be at its nest – it spends it time down at the old castle lake.” Marco nodded, remembering the lake he used to play at when he was a child, and how Blackbeard would always be the one to find him when his father had summoned him. Betrayal around him again, and he wondered just how long Blackbeard had been planning this. “When you have them, you must go down to the lake and kill the bird.” Blackbeard’s smile was wide and ugly, and Marco felt something akin to horror grow in him.

“Once the bird is dead, Ace will be set free,” Blackbeard said, and Marco swallowed thickly. “You will give me the eggs, and I will let both of you go free.”

It wasn’t a good deal, at least if a human life hadn’t been involved. Blackbeard was too selfish and self absorbed to make it a fair deal, but Marco had to do what he had to do. There was no way he could let Ace die, after all.

“I’ll do it,” he said, and Marco’s fate was sealed with a handshake.

**.**

The mountain was much like Marco remembered, except a lot wilder. The deer paths he’d followed when he was younger were still there, but the trees and bushes seemed bigger, wilder. Magic crackled around him, more magic than Marco remembered ever feeling on these mountains, and he wondered if the fire bird knew he was coming.

His trek was hard. He’d left his horse behind, waiting to take him to the lake, and Marco had carried on alone. The entire mountain seemed to want to prevent him from reaching the tallest peak – where the bird apparently nested – but Marco persevered. By the time he reached the highest mountain top he was tired and starving, but it was worth it when he saw a charred crop of plants, a nest in the centre of the charcoal.

And it was empty, just as Blackbeard had promised.

Looking around, just in case there was a mythical bird waiting nearby, Marco stalked closer and closer, until he was standing above the small nest. There were four eggs, not unlike those of a quail only the size of a duck’s, settled comfortably against each other.

Just as he was about to reach for them, thoughts of Ace trapped somewhere swirling in his mind (how many days had it been now – too many that was for sure), there was a rush of wind and magic, and Marco pulled back, startled as a bird the size of his arm landed over the next, long beak clacking in warning.

Blackbeard had been wrong after all.

“The magician has tricked you, little prince,” the bird said, bright blue eyes boring into the very depths of Marco’s soul. “I wonder if you’ll realise just how much before it’s too late,” it said softly, to itself, and Marco stepped forwards to the nest once more.

“He told me I’d have to kill you, down at the lake,” Marco said, looking down at the bird.

“Perhaps you will need to kill the bird at the lake,” the fire bird said softly, almost mischievously. “In a way, you must.”

It didn’t make much sense, but Marco hadn’t expected it to. Mythical beasts were all a bit strange when they were not in fairy tales and stories. Cryptic, Marco would say, and it seemed this bird was no exception.

“I need to take your eggs with me,” Marco said, and the feathers on the top of the bird’s head raised, like eyebrows would on a human.

“Do you,” it said, drawing the words out. It stepped back, revealing its precious, hidden treasures, and Marco wondered if he had the courage to push the bird out of the way, grab the eggs and run. He didn’t think so, especially if the bird controlled this mountain like he suspected it did.

“Did you ever see me, when I was a child?” Marco asked suddenly, and the bird looked at him sharply, beak opening in what could be called a smile.

“I have been guarding these eggs for many years,” it said, ruffling its feathers. “There have been many children, many princes, but I’ve never forgotten the young prince of birds.”

Marco started, recognition at the name. It could only be a reference to his true name, the name magic had made him, and he bowed his head. Only creatures of pure magic could know such information with only one look at a person, and those creatures could never lose their pureness – their goodness.

“He wanted me to kill you,” Marco repeated, and the bird bowed its head.

“Blackbeard is tainted, a demon’s fool,” it said, stepping away from the eggs. “He stands no chance against you and your loved one, that much you’ll see.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I give my eggs willingly to you, one who has shown they are worthy. You have come here with noble intentions, and you are the only one who can stop Blackbeard.” The bird opened its wings, shaking its entire body, and it then vanished, flames bursting over its feathers alongside the crackle of teleportation magic.

Marco stood there gormless for a moment, eyes fixed on the fresh char mark the bird’s exit had made. He swallowed, thought of Ace and how much he needed him, how he couldn’t lose him at any cost, and gently picked up the eggs, tucking them into his shirt. He had left his armour at the Rocks, needing speed and a less cumbersome figure, and he was grateful for the foresight. The eggs would have been impossible to get back otherwise.

The climb back to his horse was anything but easy, especially as he had the eggs to protect and worry building in his stomach. It was an impossible task for anyone who didn’t have as much to lose as Marco did, and he soldiered on, heaving a sigh of infinite relief when he reached his horse.

The ride to the lake was slow, Marco aware of the eggs and how much they meant. If even one broke slightly, there was a chance Blackbeard wouldn’t give Ace back. If that happened, Marco would tear him apart with his magic – or at least he’d try.

The lake was just as it always had been in his memory, as if had been plucked straight out of Marco’s mind. He left his horse once more and walked the cobbled path down to the lakeside, looking around for Blackbeard. He didn’t seem to be around, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there, and Marco wished he’d brought a bag on his journey, just so he could have access to both his hands and still keep the eggs safe.

There was something moving on the water and, for a terrible moment, Marco thought it was Blackbeard. The moon shifted from behind the clouds and he almost sighed in relief at the site of a goose swimming erratic circles. A poor, diseased creature, most likely, and he wondered back to the words of the fire bird, remembering how it seemed to agree with Blackbeard that he’d kill the bird at the lake. Did he have to put it out of its misery then?

Marco felt Blackbeard’s magic before he materialised, turning to face him and shield the eggs as Blackbeard’s eyes widened.

“You have them,” he whispered, as if he’d expected Marco to fail this task all along. “It just… let you have them?” Blackbeard asked, taking a step towards Marco, hand reached out as if to snatch the eggs.

Marco moved back, his heels sploshing into the water. He needed to be careful he didn’t move too far into the water, for the rocks were slippery and if he fell then the eggs would break. Marco still didn’t know their full significance, but Blackbeard wanted them.

“Give Ace back, and I’ll give them to you,” Marco said, casting a quick look around. They were utterly alone, aside from the sick goose, and Marco wondered if he’d be able to stop Blackbeard here and now.

“Ace this, Ace that,” Blackbeard hissed, taking another step and then another. “I don’t need to give him back – you’re going to give me those eggs, and then I’m going to get rid of you both.” Blackbeard laughed, and Marco knew what was going to happen, could see it, and was powerless to prevent it.

Blackbeard pushed him, and the eggs scattered. Horror bloomed through Marco as he watched them fall into the lake shallows, hands trying to catch them as they fell through his fingers, soft plops and heart-breaking cracks ringing in his ears. They had been his only bartering tool, his only weapon, against Blackbeard, and now they were ruined.

“You’re going to die,” Blackbeard said, standing over Marco in the water, one foot crushing down on Marco’s sternum. It had to be enforced with magic, Marco thought, for no human foot could exert that much pressure. His back dug against the rocks, and Marco could feel lake water against the side of his mouth. If Blackbeard put any more weight down…

There was a honk, a rush of white, silky feathers, and Marco’s eyes widened as the large bird he had mistaken for a goose came barrelling towards them. It clambered over Marco ungracefully, beak snapping against Blackbeard, drawing blood as it hissed and twisted, determined to get Blackbeard off of Marco.

And, of course, that was when everything became clear. For a brief, far too brief, moment, the swan that was attacking Blackbeard shifted, turning into a man Marco knew very well and pulling him off of Marco entirely.

“Ace!” Marco shouted, watching as Ace went down, Blackbeard still clenched in his arms. He saw Ace smile, saw relief flood his eyes and joy, and then Ace had vanished once more, his swan form hidden by Blackbeard’s bulk. Panic hit Marco again, for surely no bird would be able to withstand Blackbeard’s magic enforced weight, and his magic sprang from him, curling around Blackbeard in spiralling sparks.

Even though it was no longer inside of him, Marco could feel the power, but he kept on pouring. He gave everything he had, pushing his magic out towards Ace and Blackbeard, the only thing in his mind being that he had to fix this. He had to stop Blackbeard, and he had to stop Ace from dying, and this was what his magic had always been for.

Marco had almost laughed when he’d seen the form Ace’s curse had taken, and he realised the fire bird had been right all along. He did have to kill the bird on the lake, though not in the traditional sense.

And hadn’t it always been about swans, ever since Marco had received his magical name, the name that cast his purpose into the world.

“I am the Swan Prince,” Marco said, standing and moving towards Blackbeard. His magic lifted Blackbeard up, bright blue swirls binding him tightly, cutting off all movement. “Your spells were never built to last, not against my magic,” Marco said, and with a final push, his magic swarmed over Blackbeard, compressing and pushing until there was only a tiny lump, floating on the surface of the lake.

Marco didn’t dare look at Ace just yet, for his magic was still swirling around in the water, cutting through years and layers of curses, stripping away the damage Blackbeard had done. He knew Ace would be okay, just as he knew that Blackbeard had been returned to a simpler form, and just as he knew the fire bird was sitting in a tree near the shore, waiting for Marco to hand over the mottled black egg that held what was left of Blackbeard’s soul.

“I will watch over it,” the fire bird said, eyes bright as it stared out to the lake. “I will take care of this if you take care of that which I gave you before,” it finished, snatching the egg from Marco’s hands as it flew off, vanishing to the mountain, Marco presumed.

He turned back to the water, feeling his magic flow away, seeping into the earth. Marco didn’t mourn its loss, for he’d used every drop of magic inside of him to give Blackbeard another chance and free Ace, and he ran into the water, reaching for Ace as he sat up, laughing.

“Marco,” Ace said, pulling Marco close, pulling back and then hugging him tightly again. “Marco, Marco, Marco!” he chanted, the water splashing around them as they laughed, relief and wonder soaking through them just as well as the lake water did.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Marco said, pulling back. He caught Ace’s soft gaze and moved forwards, kissing him gently, catching up on everything they’d missed in the years they’d been separated. “I love you,” he added, and Ace sighed, closing his eyes with a soft smile.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing their foreheads together. They stayed there for a short while, soaking in the relief that this was over – Blackbeard wouldn’t be coming for them anymore, until something bobbed against Marco’s arm.

Looking down, Marco held back a surprised laugh. Two eggs were floating – two of the four he had dropped – and one pressed against Marco’s arm while the other touched Ace lightly. They both took an egg curiously, and Marco could feel his magic cushioning the shell, an unconscious gesture he had made to protect the eggs, it seemed.

“I’m surprised they survived the fall,” Marco said, craning his head to have a look to where the others had been left. Sure enough, two more eggs floated, their shells completely crushed and flat on the surface, strangle mottled blobs in the bright light of the moon.

He was about to say something else when he felt the egg heat in his palm, though it didn’t hurt or cause alarm. Marco glanced at Ace and found him in a similar state, the egg unwrapping, as if the shell was being peeled back. Light shot out from both shells, dark lines circling each other between Marco and Ace. They seemed to form into two courting swans, necks elegantly curled, before the lines moved back towards the eggs, only this time they smoothed against Marco and Ace’s skin, settling there with a slight sting of magic.

Ace laughed as the light faded, the marks of two swans on each of their hands, dark head snaking up onto their forearms.

“The stories are true!” Ace said, hurling himself into Marco’s lap and kissing him, little kisses that he peppered all over Marco’s cheeks. “The fire birds bestow soul marks to those who truly love each other!”

Ace stilled at the look Marco shot him, for fire birds had never bestowed soul marks in any of the stories Marco knew. They were wish granters, neutral ones at that.

“You have to have heard the legends,” Ace said, wrapping his arms around Marco’s neck. “Of how fire birds test lovers to see if their love is true and the real thing? Like the proper fairy tale, curse-breaking, eternal kind? And how, when they find it, they bestow the lovers with a mark that declares it to the world?”

Marco shook his head slowly, melting as Ace laughed and kissed him, moving down from his jaw to his throat, kissing the quickening pulse he felt. Something stirred deep within Marco – it had been a while since they’d done this after all – and his hands tightened against Ace’s waist, pulling him closer in encouragement.

“I have no idea,” Marco said, smiling as Ace kissed his neck, hands smoothing against the back of Marco’s head. “Perhaps you should tell me,” Marco said, exhaustion and hunger slipping away into a different kind of want as Ace moved, whispering in his ear.

“Once upon a time…”

**.**

The bells rang across the entire land on the day of the princes’ wedding. Whitebeard dabbed at the corners of his eyes as his sons – for Ace had always been a son to him too – exited the cathedral, drawing cheers from entire town as they made their way towards the horse drawn carriages.

“Oh,” Rouge said from his side, sniffing heavily. “Oh look at them, those boys,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks as she waved, cheering Marco and Ace on as they reached the carriage. They turned, waved, and each threw the flowers they’d been holding towards each side of the crowd. Scuffles broke out, but Whitebeard was too busy crying to take much notice, Rouge’s sniffles sending him over the edge.

“Edward!” Roger said, voice as pathetic as his face was blotchy. He’d been the first to start crying, back in the cathedral before either of the princes had shown up, in fact. Rouge had whispered that he’d been crying on and off since Ace had come back, and Whitebeard couldn’t begrudge them that.

He’d been shocked when Marco and Ace had returned, dirty, smelling of ponds and covered in goodness knows what. They had been smiling soppily at each other, unable to part from each other for even a moment, and Whitebeard had caught sight of the soul mark quietly, smiling to himself.

Marco and Ace made their final turn towards the balcony, where Whitebeard, Roger and Rouge stood. They waved – and it was ridiculous because they were only going off for a week or so and would be back in no time – and Whitebeard felt a new wave of tears wash over him.

His smile was as bright as the sun as they rode off, and he was in good company with Roger and Rouge, the three of them wiping their eyes long into the evening, reminiscing from times of long ago, safe in the knowledge that their kingdoms were safe and their sons happy.

**The End**

**.**


End file.
